


Caring for a Copy-Nin

by molten_poison



Category: Naruto
Genre: First Kiss, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, Inaccurate first aid, brifefly, eventually, some description of wounds and stitching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28851009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molten_poison/pseuds/molten_poison
Summary: If somebody told you that Hatake Kakashi will be bleeding out on your floor at 4 am in the morning, covered in wounds and bruises, you probably would've called that person insane. However fate was a funny thing, and it dragged a famed ninja into your small forest hut, fresh from a battle, filling your home with the smell of metal, sweat and blood.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

If somebody told you that Hatake Kakashi will be bleeding out on your floor at 4 am in the morning, covered in wounds and bruises, you probably would've called that person insane. However fate was a funny thing, and it dragged a famed ninja into your small forest hut, fresh from a battle, filling your home with the smell of metal, sweat and blood. 

It happened in the early hours in the morning, with a violent knock to your door. As soon as you opened the door, he managed to mumble a sorry, before practically tumbling into your arms. Your sleep laced brain immediately kicked into overdrive, as you grabbed the man to keep him upright. He leaned against you, strength still left in his body, weak feet shuffling across the floor as you dragged him inside.  _ Fuck  _ he was heavy.

Your eyes immediately were drawn to a nasty gash in his side, blood-soaked through clothes, dripping onto the floor, and there was red, so much  _ red _ .

Judging by his looks, he was a shinobi, a sight you haven’t seen often, his headband indicating he was from the Hidden Leaf Village. A bit far from here, but it didn’t matter. Not that it mattered that he wasn't a civilian. He was hurt, badly so from the first look of it, every inch of visible skins covered in cuts and bruises, with blood seeping dangerously quickly from his side, and that was all that was important to you.

The man was barely conscious as you laid him carefully on the hardwood floor of the only room in the house, head occasionally swinging from side to side, incoherent mumbles coming from his lips. The second you settled him down, you ran to boil some hot water and get clean towels to clean up all the blood. Adrenaline thumped in your ears, the world around you moving faster than usual, but you stayed calm for now. Time for freaking out was later.

You won't let this man die. You never turned away a person in need and the fact that this one was a shinobi won't change your resolve.

By the time you return, his movements still, with only his chest heavily rising and falling, raspy breath filling the room. 

You got to work. 

With clean hands, a bowl full of warm water and plenty of towels, you started inspecting his body for the damage. You wiggled him out of his west and carefully peeled off his shirt, couldn't help but gagging at the wet sounds of flesh and blood, at the sight of his torso with the open wounds covering the left side. 

It was gross. Really fucking gross. But it didn't matter for now.

You told yourself to calm the fuck down so many times over already, you lost count. Your mind feverishly ran over instructions for first aid, as the letters from that one leaflet you got burned into your vision.

  1. Stop the bleeding.



You pressed your hand into his side, where the biggest gush was, in hopes to stop some of the bleeding, hearing him hiss in pain, and started quickly and methodically to wash the blood and dirt away. With such open wounds, the infection would be the last thing you wanted, having no appropriate medicine this far out in the woods.

Swiping the warm towel carefully over the wounds, you couldn't help but think of the type of battle this man was in. How many times he was hit? Did he win? Is his enemy hot on his trail? As some of the blood washed off, a cool realisation settled in, making you regret even living here, this far out in the wilds. You needed to stitch the wound. 

Other cuts on his body would be fine after a quick dressing, as they were mostly shallow, but the one in his side… well it was nasty. You just hoped he didn’t lose too much blood prior to coming here.

Although it didn't seem like it extended to any organs or arteries, you could see how deep it cut into the flesh, with fat showing under a thick layer of skin. It would be days before you could get a proper medic from the closest village, and Gods know whether this man can survive it.

You felt the cold caress of panic softly bloom in your stomach, a first proper one since this man entered your home. Before you were scared and nervous. Now you were spiralling into a panic.

No.

Now is not the time.

"I'm gonna have to stitch you up" you address the man laying in front of you, your voice drifting like an echo, unsure and still coarse from the sleep. 

You're not sure if he can hear you, yet you continue anyway.

"I don't have the supplies here for proper stitching, so it will hurt. Bare with me, yeah? You'll be fine"

The words of comfort were more for yourself than him. You press a towel against his wound and then grab his hand and press it to his side.

"Keep it here. I'll be back, yeah?"

A groan of pain is your only answer, but he seems to keep his hand over his wounds, conscious or not. You dash to the kitchen to get some more water boiling. You only had basic sewing supplies with you, the types to fix up a hole in a shirt or something, so sterilising was the key. Such crude stitching was likely to leave a nasty scar, although, you think, it's better than dying. Besides, proper medic shinobi can take care of that later, that's for sure. 

You get your thread and needles ready, and prepare bandages to cover the would later on. It isn't much, but it would do. Your hands are shaking, an anxious mind trying to remember the procedure for such wound closures. As you wait for the water to boil, you pace around your tiny kitchen, pinching your arms to calm down. Your gaze falls upon a small liquor shelf. 

In a normal situation, you wouldn't resort to alcohol, but this wasn't a normal situation, and fuck, you both needed it.. You find the strongest bottle of liquor while waiting for the water to boil and device that's this is the best pain killer shinobi gonna get. 

You take a swig yourself to calm the nerves, before sterilising your sewing supplies. Your grab a wooden cooking spoon on your way out and take a deep breath before leaving.

Wounded man on your floor seems more with it, when you're back, his hand still pressing on his side. He is still breathing, managing to open one eye to look at you.

"I'll try to be quick, yeah?" you reach for his mask to feed him some alcohol, but he quickly grabs your wrist and shakes his head. Too quickly. Dam shinobi reflexes.

"Drink yourself then. I won't look. You'll need it, trust me" you place the bottle next to him and divert your attention to his side.

You hear a soft pop of the bottle, a sniff and few gulps followed by that. When you look back, his mask is back on. You soccer the wooden spoon in his mouth.

"Don't bite your tongue off. I won't be able to fix that" you give him a smile, his more or less conscious presence somewhat comforting. In a "you're patient is still alive" way.

It takes ages to thread the needle, your hand still shaking, but far less this time. It's easier to focus on the burn of liquor in your throat and the warmth spread in your belly, distracting you from the pressure of the situation. 

"It'll be fine. It'll be alright" you whisper, to yourself more than to the wounded.

He grunts something back, reaching out and placing a hand over yours. You look at him and he gives you what feels to be a smile? Judging by the creased eye and subtle movements under a mask. You smile weakly back, and the thread pushes past the threshold. 

With your needle ready, you carefully lift the towel off, pressing the flesh together. You've only done this once before, on a much smaller scale too, and that thought doesn't leave you alone.

"Ready?" He gives you a small nod.

The second the needle enters the soft flesh, his body shudders and it takes all your concentration to keep going, top not rupture the already abused flesh. His clenched his fists, dull nails scraping across the floor, sounds of pain escaping from the behind the wooden spoon. His body is taut, as he tries to not move, to let you do your job. You push all of that away, and keep on stitching, trying to ignore the bizarre feeling of flesh underneath your fingers.

In and out, in and out. Slowly, inch by inch, the wound closes, bloodied thread shutting it tight. You barely have time to breathe, holding it in to give your body better control. After what felt like the eternity of intense work, you finally finish. 

"All done" you rasp out, hearing the spoon fall out of shinobi's mouth. His body relaxes underneath your hands, pliant and relaxed. 

  1. Clean the wound



The seam still bleeds, as the other cuts too, as you clean the remaining blood off. You don't have any proper equipment, so cleanliness is extra important. 

  1. Cover the wound



You dress the stitch to the best of your abilities, then proceed to take care of the other cuts. They are less harsh and deep, but still, need closing up with small tape-like strips. It feels like hours by the time you're done, eternity stretching into the early hours of the morning. By the time you're done, shinobi's torso is covered with bandages and alike, although it won't be long until all of that needs changing. And you were running low on supplies. 

Shinobi passes out or falls asleep somewhere after the stitching. Judging by the deep even breathing, you hope for the latter.

You drag a mattress in and do your best job at settling him on it, without disrupting the new wounds. The worst has now passed, and all you can do is hope that you've done everything correctly. It's only now you finally get a good look at the guy. He looks closer to your age as you initially thought, with a big tuft of silver hair on his head and a scar running over his left eye.

A much tidier scar than the one you're leaving him with, you think.

After covering him with a spare blanket and placing a pillow under his head, you go outside to send a pigeon with the message out.

The closest village was a good few miles away, and you were in no state to travel for a medic and supplies now. You needed new bandages most importantly, but somebody more capable needed to look at that shinobi as well. Maybe new towels too, you were never good at washing the blood out, and all of yours were soiled. So a message should do fine, besides, somebody had to look after the wounded shinobi, and the trip would take a whole day to complete.

Only now, outside your small hut, watching the carry pigeon flap away, surrounded by early morning silence, the realisation of what just happened crashes into you, breaking down any form of resolve you had. You slump to the ground, chest burning in fear and so much confusion, as you let yourself recover from the event. You cry quietly to yourself, overwhelmed with stress and a sense of unease. 

The sun is peeking through the horizon when your tears finally dry out and breathing comes back to normal. You force yourself up, dusting dirt and grass off. There’s plenty left to do, but for now, rest was needed. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hbskbsk idk why I've written this or where it's going, but I hope you enjoy?  
> also apologies for random acts of bad english, it ain't my first language


	2. Chapter 2

#  Ch 2

Rest never came. You tossed and turned in your corner of the room, but paranoia, stress and weirdly, exhaustion, prevented you from shutting your eyes. You were never the patient kind, so you got up and busied yourself with chores. Better to be productive, than waste time laying in bed and get away from the smell of blood, which now resided in your home.

And there was plenty to do. You went for a stroll around your hut first, to look out for any signs of a potential enemy, if they were not defeated by the shinobi you saved. If the enemy did indeed live, you both were in trouble. Knowledge about shinobi’s code of honour and way of life wasn’t widely available to civilians like you, but you hoped that there was an entry there about directly endangering civilians like you. Still, you spent your time walking around, checking for any sign of intrusion into this side of the woods. Part of you considered this useless, a capable shinobi won't leave a trail visible for people like you, yet you persisted.

It seemed clear enough. At least for you.

On your way, you picked up some mushrooms, berries and herbs. The simple routine task has managed to clear some of the paranoia and fear out of you, blending the normality in the current chaos of your situation.

It will be okay. He is just an injured traveller. Nothing else. Nothing more.

He will heal, be on his way, and your life will be back to normal, with no involvement of any other violence.

The sun was already up when you came back. Your new patient still slept soundly in the corner and upon a quick inspection, he didn't seem to have a fever. He almost looked cute, tucked away on your small mattress, haphazardly swaddled in blankets, ignoring all the bandages and stitching, of course.

It only now dawned on you that it has been a while since anyone visited your little home. It's been a few years since you lived here, like some crazy forest druid person, enjoying the stillness and quietness of nature, rather than the busy and bustling life of the villages. It wasn’t all bad. You gathered any intel on anyone who passed by and helped those in need. Your hut was close to one of the paths leading to the nearest village, so it wasn't completely lonely. In return, you got modest supplies from the village itself in the form of food and other things.

It really wasn't a bad gig for your standards, but it did get lonely at times. Recently there weren't many visitors, and it has been a good few months since you have even spoken to anyone. Not counting discussing weather with your vegetable patch in the back.

You quietly groaned to yourself.

Maybe it was a shit gig. A wounded suspicious shinobi stumbles in your hut and you rejoice at any crumbs of social contact! That shouldn’t be normal!

“Is even talking to a living corpse considered a form of social?”

Said living corpse didn't respond, just started to snore quietly. You made a mental note to ask for a different job when you were done with him. 

\---

You were washing towels in a small basin at the back just a few hours later, when you heard a stir in the main room. You quickly approached him, kneeling closer to a mattress.You needed to know how he was feeling after your amateurs medical care, as well as changing his bandages for fresh ones. Also asking questions about his enemies and their status. And who he is. And where he is from… 

Fuck, you really needed to socialise more.

Shinobi was definitely waking up. He moved around a bit, first eyes still closed, then finally, finally his healthy eye opened to focus on you. You reached out to him, almost on autopilot, ready to support him if the injuries were too much.

“Hey, how -”

What happened next was too fast for you to comprehend. There was a blur of white and red, and milliseconds later you were flipped on your back, cold metal pressed against your neck, with the weight of the man pinning you to the floor. You gasped for air, the sudden impact knocking all the air out of your lungs and felt your body get really cold and still quickly, wincing at the twisted arm in his grip.

Great, that's fucking great. You're gonna be killed by the same guy you spent the whole morning saving. 

You saw red again when your eyes finally focused on your attacker. Different red this time which filled your home earlier, a glowing danger of his other eye, which opened despite the scar crossing through it. The weird pattern inside was swirling, hypnotising,  _ terrifying _ …

“Who are you? Where am I? Answer me now, or regret it” his rough voice pulled you out of a weird haze, as the grip on you tightened and metal blade pressed into your skin even harder.

“I… Don’t you remember me? I patched you up...” you finally managed, terrified to move a muscle.

He stilled above you, that red glowing eye burrowing into you intensively. Hypnotising iris was moving ever so slightly from side to side. After a few moments of awkward staring, the eye closed, and he finally let you go, shifting himself away.

“Ah… sorry about that. Ninja reflexes and that-” his words were interrupted by a pained groan, as he doubled over, grasping his side, dropping kunai out of his grip.

“Shit, don't move” you quickly wiggled from underneath him, grabbing his shoulders and guiding him back onto the mattress. The wounds must have opened up from that quick movement he did, unsurprising considering the stitches were still raw and fresh.

“Stay here. I need to replace the bandages”

He didn't try to stop you as you rushed to the kitchen. Maybe a sign of trust? Or he plainly couldn't move much without hurting himself further.

When you came back, he already put his kunai back and let you patch his wounds up. The bandages were soaked again, so you took your time cleaning the excess and dry blood, as well as making sure the bandages were laid flat and tidy.

“Not too tight?”

“No...”

He watched you intently as you worked, although you avoided his gaze. It was … well a bit awkward after he almost sliced your throat just minutes earlier. 

_ Awkward?? Is that the word we’re using?? He tried to kill you. _

You really wanted to slap yourself again. For the 7th time this morning, you have regretted getting yourself into this mess. But what were you supposed to do? Leave him bleed out on your porch? Let him die slow and agonising pain? And what would you even do with the body? Did you even have shovel...

“I really meant it. I am sorry” his voice, softer this time, cut through the stream of your spiralling thoughts.

“It’s… no problem. I can imagine one would be jumpy in your situation”

He shook his head at that.

“Still. You were so kind to me and I paid you back in attacking you. Yet you still looking after me now”

You continued your work in silence, before finally answering.

“You’re the first person I’ve seen in months, so blame my loneliness”

He looked at you, surprised and confused, but then a chuckle escaped underneath his mask, followed by another groan of pain.

“Well, you are either too kind or slightly insane,” he said with amusement in his voice.

Ah, your guest had a sense of humour. Good.

“A bit of both” you finally looked at him, to see him smile at you. Well, judging by the creased eye and vague form underneath his mask. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. 

…

The man was indeed from the Hidden Leaf Village, as he told you after you made a quick meal for the both of you. He introduced himself as Hatake Kakashi, a familiar name which rang a bell but not to the point where you remembered where you heard it before. He was ambushed by a large group, and although managed to fight them off, was injured. He planned to try to make it to the village but stumbled upon your hut in the process. 

“I am usually more careful. I didn't want you to get involved in this” since almost killing you, his demeanour was softer, calmer. He thanked you for any small thing you did and kept apologising for barging into your home. At some point he even tried assuring you he is fine and ready to go home, to which you almost gave him a slap. You would have, if not for the pain the man was in. All in jest, of course.

You still felt on the edge, however, knowing just how quickly you will leave this earth if this man wanted you to.

“I’m just glad you didn't have a trail. I can only manage one shinobi at a time”

“You should put this as a sign outside your fine establishment. Just so the others know”

It was very difficult to be wary with that charm of his, though. It's only been a couple of hours, but you felt yourself warming up to the guy. Maybe your selfish interest in his wellbeing was part of it. Maybe it was the fact that Kakashi didn’t act like you expected a shinobi would. You rarely had the pleasure of seeing or even interacting with them, so your guest’s soft and playful demeanour completely shattered your idea of brooding seasoned warriors, as they were often portrayed. And Kakashi was easy to talk to too, with his quips and nice laugh.

_ Or it could just be loneliness. _

“Does it hurt?” you gestured vaguely at his torso.

“It’s just a scratch”, that made you smile a bit.

“I'm asking because I am not a certified medic and whatever I have done to your wounds may not be… great” you settled the cup of tea you were sipping on back on the floor.

“I’m alive, aren't I? Don't worry, I’ve been through worse”

You really rather not imagine what worse was. That was probably the most amount of blood you’ve seen at once, and suddenly you were really thankful for being able to keep your composure and not throw up at the sight of it.

“Well, worse or not, I’d rather you stay here until some of it is healed up. I don’t want to hear that you died from some botched stitching job”

“There are worse ways to go”

Silence fell over you both, as you sipped on some green honeyed tea. You were really glad that your shinobi guest wasn’t some sort of antisocial weirdo, or worse, someone actually dangerous and bloodthirsty. The man seemed harmless, for the exception of usual dangers which came with being in the militia. It would be a couple of days or so before the village medic arrived, and part of you liked the idea of having some company, even if it was just for a few days. And then your life can go back to the uneventful normality, just as it was before. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of a boring chapter, but tbf whats plot? idk where im going but it may spice up a bit  
> Also grammarly is the real MVP of this chapter

**Author's Note:**

> hbskbsk idk why I've written this or where it's going, but I hope you enjoy?  
> also apologies for random acts of bad english, it ain't my first language


End file.
